SGU Courage and Hope
by kimmy4eytj
Summary: Col Young contemplates courage and hope after "Water"


Author's notes: This was originally written for StargateLand Challenge # 01, Phase Six, "Favorite Things". This is set immediately after the episode, _Water_.

Disclaimer: SG Universe is owned by MGM, not me, darn it. Since they denied us the pleasure of these characters' company, I'm using them entirely without profit for my own playtime.

"Hey. How is he?" Young asked, walking into the infirmary and stopping alongside Matt Scott's bed. He followed TJ with his eyes, as she came around her desk to stand beside him. 

"Doing okay," she said. TJ slid her fingers over Scott's wrist to check his pulse. "I decided to keep him overnight for observation though. His carbon dioxide levels were incredibly high and oxygen too low." She turned her head toward Young. "I had him on O2 earlier. Matt's body needs time to metastasize those concentrations. Until I'm certain he's fully recovered, I don't want him up." 

Young nodded, looking down at the sleeping young man. He had been incredibly impressed with Matt's courage, how he kept calm despite his desperate situation, knowing that Young had to leave him to die a cold death, hanging, alone in that crevasse. 

"I'm just going to sit with him for a few minutes," he said, thoughtfully. He looked up into TJ's face, searching, asking for her understanding. 

She nodded, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "When you're finished, I want to take a look at you." 

"I'm fine." 

"Maybe. Still, I want to see for myself." Her emphatic expression bid no arguing. 

Reluctantly, he nodded agreement and TJ went back to her desk. Young pulled a stool to the bedside, and sat down heavily. He was tired. Physically, his body was still healing from the injuries he sustained when boarding Destiny. He noticed a dull ache had returned in his right leg. Absently, he rubbed at his thigh down to his knee trying to work the cramp away. He sighed deeply and hitched his intake as his ribs protested all their recent abuse. Pulling Scott up that rope had aggravated every bruise coloring his body. 

Mentally, ever since arriving aboard Destiny, the incidents had been piling one on top of another, not allowing him time to rest properly. The loss of Senator Armstrong, all those people at Icarus who hadn't made it out, either to Destiny, or onto the Hammond, and now, Gorman. The air recycling problem, shortages of food, water and power had all pounded him down in such a short time, he really couldn't think clearly at the moment. 

Matt stirred, drawing Young's attention. A raspy cough shook his chest. Young laid his hand on the man's shoulder. He watched Matt's face lose its tension, and that seemed to settle him back into deeper sleep. Young grinned, removed his hand, and dropped his head, staring sightless at his lap. He had asked much of this man since coming to Destiny. He had handled each new request, order, like a good soldier. Scott was still raw, fresh out of training. Young recognized himself in Scott's fresh-faced eagerness, wanting so hard to please, and do everything better and faster to please his commanding officer. 

Scott had been correct on the planet. He had seen too many people under his command perish. He hated that part of his job. So many times fighting the Goa'uld, he had led his team into impossible situations, fighting Jaffa, death imminent, and yet, he had returned. Sometimes not in the same condition as when he left, but Air Force medical personnel had taken advantage of advanced knowledge, saving countless lives for the SGC. He agonized over every death under his command. There were times, no matter what you tried, where nothing could save a teammate. He detested that excuse, refused to even accept it, and chose to see it as his failure of imagination and skills to help that person. 

Today, he had saved one and lost one. While he hadn't been aboard to worry over Gorman, his loss didn't relieve him of the pain of failure. He knew more severe tests of his leadership were probable as long as they remained on Destiny. It was imperative that he get these people home. Back to Earth. None of them had expected this. His anger toward Dr Rush flared. Damn the man for dialing the ninth chevron and not Earth or any other address. 

He shook his head angrily. He was impotent to the power restrictions of this ship. There wasn't enough power to dial Earth. Morale would swiftly become a problem. These people weren't trained for this kind of duty. Scientists and civilians would balk at the restrictions he would need to implement if their resources didn't improve. They needed real food. And hope. 

"Hey," TJ said, laying her hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you let me check you over, then get some sleep. You're exhausted." 

He looked up at her, and nodded. Sliding off the stool, he followed her to another exam table and hopped atop it. 

"Please remove your jacket, Colonel." TJ said, reaching for her blood pressure cuff. 

Young slid out of his jacket and set it beside him. He watched silently as she placed the cuff around his left arm then pumped it up, listening with her stethoscope to the reading. Satisfied, she removed the cuff, then listened to his heart and lungs. 

"How's the leg?" 

"Fine." 

"You want to try again?" She gave him a skeptical look. "I saw you rubbing it earlier." 

He smiled. "All right, it aches. As do my ribs and my head is pounding." 

It was her turn to smile. "I expected as much based on what you needed to do to rescue Lieutenant Scott." She reached into her pocket, then took his hand and placed two pills in his palm. "Take these. It should relieve enough of the ache to allow you to sleep." 

"TJ, I don't want to be knocked out." 

"You won't. These are just to help with the pain." She handed him his jacket. "Try to take it easy tomorrow." 

He harrumphed and slid off the table, wincing slightly as his leg took his weight once again. 

TJ noticed and raised an eyebrow. 

He ignored her censure and pulled on his jacket then limped out of the infirmary. As he made his way to his quarters, he wondered what he really wanted out of his life. He knew everyone aboard, except maybe, Rush, wanted to go home. Is that what he wanted? He had joined Stargate Command to explore space. Like every adventurer before him, the siren call of the unexplored pulled at him. 

General O'Neill had given him Icarus after Young had turned down leadership of the ninth chevron team. It had been to important to pass up. He had thought he wanted to be home, to work on his marriage, to correct his mistake with TJ, to demonstrate to Emily that she was important, that he loved her, and that she should move back into their home. They had been drifting apart for years. Even though he still loved her, Emily had made decisions that took her in a different direction. And given Emily's reaction to his situation, he doubted that his marriage could be saved, even if he was at home. Was it fair to her to ask her to wait for him? Did he truly want to give up three years of marriage? 

He arrived at his quarters and closed the hatch behind him. He looked at the bed, then decided to sleep on the couch instead. He checked his watch and set the alarm. He had a meeting with Homeworld Command in a few short hours. He took a swig of water, from his canteen, swallowing the pain pills TJ had given him. Young removed his boots, sliding them under the table. He settled back stretching his legs full out on the couch. He signed and closed his eyes, willing his body to relax. 

What did he want? He admitted that this command, being on Destiny, was a chance of a lifetime. He smirked, thinking of David Telford, and his anger at missing being aboard this ship. That Young had ended up with both commands, Icarus, and now, the ninth chevron destination and Destiny. So where did that leave him? 

As he drifted into a deeper sleep, his dreams told him the answers. 

"_You are so beautiful_."


End file.
